


Sometimes More is Better

by eyesofshinigami



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Also Jaskier has nipples like Harry Styles, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Crack Treated Seriously, For reasons, M/M, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25072258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofshinigami/pseuds/eyesofshinigami
Summary: Geralt has a bit of a thing for nipples, especially weird ones. When he catches a glimpse of Jaskier's for the first time... well.It becomes an obsession.or the one where Geralt really likes Jaskier's nipples... all four of them.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 52
Kudos: 225





	Sometimes More is Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lutes_and_dandelions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lutes_and_dandelions/gifts).



> Okay, so. This stemmed from a Discord conversation talking about Andrzej Sapkowski's penchant for overly describing nipples in the books, especially the ones that are weird and strange. Naturally, we all decided that Jaskier has to have weird nipples and Geralt is _here for them_.
> 
> A gift for the beautiful lutes_and_dandelions, because without her, this wouldn't exist. 
> 
> Special thanks to the Bards of Geraskier for the motivation, and to Julie~ for the beta. You're a babe and I love you.

Geralt isn’t a man of discerning tastes; the ale is good as long as it’s cold, the stew is fine as long as it isn’t salty, and he sleeps just as well in a bed as he does on a bedroll. He has his horse, his armor, and his bard - though he’d most likely cut out his own tongue before admitting the last one. He’s pretty simple when it comes to the things that he likes and dislikes. 

Except, apparently, when it comes to his sexual partners.

Whores are fine, just the same as anything else in his life. But the ones that he doesn’t pay? Well, with those he tends to be a little… pickier with. Eskel teases him constantly about his penchant for falling into bed with dangerous people, especially sorceresses. It’s true, he can’t deny it, but what his brother _doesn’t_ know is that Geralt tends to have a certain proclivity. One that he’s never voiced, not even to Yennefer. Especially not to Yennefer, because he can only imagine the sort of hell that would rain down on his head if he did.

He’d never say it out loud, but the thing that really gets Geralt going? Nipples. And not just any nipples, but he finds something incredibly pleasurable about nipples that are a little… different. Yennefer’s are strangely pale, Triss’ were oddly shaped and covered in freckles, and his favorite romps with whores included both men and women who also had odd nipples. Chest hair, misshapen, inverted, scarred…he loves them all. Nothing turns him on faster than wrapping his mouth or fingers around a set of nipples that someone else might find strange or unusual. 

Which is why he’s absolutely blindsided the first time he sees Jaskier shirtless. He knows the bard is hairy; he’s seen the way his chest hair curls out of the top of his pretty chemises. And the man never leaves his doublet buttoned up while they’re on the road. Once or twice he’s gotten a tiny view of his chest when Jaskier uses the bottom of his chemise to wipe sweat off his brow, but it never got his attention beyond a cursory glance. 

But they’re in the high of summer and Jaskier has spent the last three hours complaining loudly and at great length about the heat. Geralt would agree with him, but the bard has annoyed him to the point that he’s ignoring him on principle. Despite the fact that he can feel sweat rolling down the back of his armor, he refuses to give into Jaskier’s incessant whining.

“No one told you to come with me to Velen,” Geralt grunts, squeezing the reins tighter to stop himself from wiping sweat from his brow. “You know what it’s like this time of year.”

Jaskier fans himself with his composition book. “Sure, but you said that contract near the bog would be lucrative. What kind of fool would I be if I didn’t come along to document your adventures?” He stops to bow with a flourish, his hair sticking to his face. “Besides, I don’t have any other prior engagements, and this is the season we travel together.”  
Geralt blames the sudden warmth in his cheeks on the weather. Stupid bard and his shallow flattery. Maybe he can be a little generous with Jaskier, just this once. “Fine. We’ll stop just over the next hill. I smell water nearby. Roach can have a drink and we can cool off.”

“Oh bless you, glorious Witcher!” Jaskier crows. There’s a new bit of pep in his step as they continue down the road. At least the complaining has stopped, replaced by the bard whistling a jaunty little tune. “Perhaps a spot of lunch as well?”

“Fine.”

\--

They eat their lunch under the shade of a yew tree. Jaskier scarfs down his food like someone’s going to steal it before tearing off down the towards where the small stream they’d come across. Geralt eats his own lunch more sedately, rolling his eyes at the bard’s antics. If anyone knew what a ridiculous human Jaskier could be, he’d probably have far fewer prospects for bed partners. 

He watches Jaskier strip and jump into the stream with a loud yell. Roach barely looks up from where she’s nibbling at some grass, probably just as unamused by the idiot as Geralt is. 

Though, the bard is on to something. The water does look pretty inviting. They’re making good pace today, so Geralt sees no reason why he shouldn’t join him. Carefully, he strips off his armor and his own shirt and breeches, folding them up and walking down to the water line. It’s not like the bard has never seen him naked before, between the baths, injuries, and the impromptu massages. 

Jaskier is floating on his back, looking peaceful. 

Geralt dunks him under the water. 

The bard comes up spluttering, looking like a drowned cat. “Geralt, you absolute brute! What the hell was that for?” He wipes water out of his eyes and plants his hands on his hips. 

“Hmm,” is all Geralt replies, knowing that it’s just going to annoy Jaskier further. He dunks himself under, letting out a sigh at the way the water feels against his overheated skin. When he comes back up, Jaskier is still ranting.

“You can’t just try to drown people in a river, Geralt. What if I couldn’t swim? What then? How would you like to have that on your conscience?” Jaskier’s arms are flailing with their usual dramatics, close enough to where Geralt almost gets hit.

“Watch where you’re-” Geralt cuts himself off.

He’s staring at Jaskier’s chest. It occurs to him in that moment that he’s never seen Jaskier shirtless like this before. He’s usually too relaxed and sleepy after his bath to pay attention, and he’s never been unfortunate enough to walk in on one of Jaskier’s escapades. 

Which is why he’d never noticed that Jaskier, underneath all the wiry chest hair, has weird nipples. Four of them, to be exact. 

Geralt has seen a lot of strange sets of nipples before, but never multiples on a human. There are the ones in the usual place, on his pectorals, and then others are further down. One sits on the bottom of his rib cage and the other is set a little higher than his belly button, on the side of his torso. He has the compulsion to reach out and touch them, but he manages to hold himself back. He can already feel the slow tingles of arousal starting in his pelvis; as if Jaskier wasn’t already ridiculously pretty before…

“Are you even listening to me? I mean- oh.” Jaskier glances down and looks back at him. Whatever expression Geralt is wearing must be incredibly funny, because the bard starts chuckling. “I guess you’ve never seen them before, have you? Yup, there’s four of them. Most of the time you can’t tell because of my chest hair, but they’ve been like that since I was a child.” Jaskier pinches the one near his ribs and Geralt has to bite back a groan. “They’re a bit weird though, aren’t they?”

“Hmm,” Geralt hums weakly. He tears his eyes away. He doesn’t want to make Jaskier feel weird about it, but…he wants to keep looking. Thank Melitile that Jaskier is too busy talking to notice the way that Geralt’s started getting hard just thinking about it. 

“Lovers don’t tend to say anything. I’m a man, so people forget that nipples can be sensitive-”

“Are they?” Geralt asks, before he can stop himself.

Jaskier cocks his head to the side. For all of his bluster and drama, the bard is actually pretty shrewd. Geralt is just hoping that Jaskier hasn’t put two and two together yet. “Yes? Why, are yours?” 

Geralt could kick himself for even starting this. “No, not particularly.” 

“Well, we can’t all be so lucky. Anyway,” Jaskier starts to say, ducking his head. The bridge of his nose pinkens a bit and he looks up at Geralt through his eyelashes. “Thanks for not… you know, thinking it’s strange or anything.”

Geralt bites his tongue to keep from answering, nodding instead. He doesn’t quite trust himself to keep from asking Jaskier if he can touch them. 

They continue their dip until Geralt can’t stand it any longer. “We should get going. I’d like to be close to the bog by nightfall,” he barks out. 

Jaskier lets out a deep sigh. “All right, fine. But do you think we can find an inn tonight? This water was lovely, but I feel like it’s been ages since either of us have had a proper bath.” He wades towards the shore and Geralt has to fight to keep from staring at his chest again. 

Normally, Geralt would say no. The weather will be pleasant enough and they should save their coin, but the prospect of seeing Jaskier wet and shirtless again… well. He’s going to have to stay in the water an extra couple of minutes at the thought. “Sure,” he says finally.

“Splendid! We should have stopped sooner. The cool water has done wonders for your sour mood,” Jaskier chirps as he pulls on his breeches and chemise.Geralt lets out an internal sigh of relief. Maybe now he can get his cock to calm down enough to be decent. “I’ll pack while you get dressed.” The bard shoves his doublet in his pack and goes to clean up the remainders of their lunch. 

Another dunk and Geralt finally gets out, hurrying to get dressed so they can get back on the road. 

They have an inn to get to, after all.

\--

Now that Geralt has seen them, he can’t stop thinking about them. Jaskier’s pretty little nipples, all four of them, hidden under the curls of chest hair. He wonders if they peak when they’re touched, what sorts of sounds Jaskier would make if he sucked them. The idea sticks in his brain the whole time they’re traveling. It gets worse when he looks down and notices that Jaskier never put his doublet back on.

Now, his thin chemise is soaked through with sweat and Geralt can see the faintest outline of his nipples through the fabric. The sight of it makes him shift uncomfortably in the saddle. Jaskier thankfully doesn’t notice, strumming his lute and hopping from foot to foot in time with the music in his head. It’s not doing him any favors with keeping cool, and it’s certainly not making Geralt’s mouth water any less.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. Pulling Roach to a stop. 

“Geralt? Is everything okay?” Jaskier asks, eyes wide. The set of his lute on his hip pulls the damp fabric taut and Geralt can see the way his nipple pebbles underneath. 

_No, it’s fucking not_ , Geralt thinks to himself, but he says, “Come here. You… can ride Roach.” He pointedly ignores the way Jaskier is gaping at him. In fact, he’s doing what he can to not look at Jaskier at all. “Well? Get on.”

“I understand it’s very hot out here, and I’m sure you’re absolutely cooking in that armor, which is the only explanation I can think of for why you’re letting me ride your beloved horse,” Jaskier babbles, even as he puts his foot in the stirrup to get up on the horse. “Do you promise to not be angry with me when you come to your senses?”

“Just get on the fucking horse, Jaskier,” Geralt grinds out between his teeth. 

Jaskier does in fact get on the fucking horse and he shifts up in the saddle. “Are you getting up too?” 

Absolutely not. “No, I… feel like walking,” he mutters lamely. He grabs Roach’s reins and tugs, clicking his tongue to get her walking. What the fuck is wrong with him? Jaskier thankfully doesn’t comment, and he can’t see the source of his distraction. He can’t see pert little nubs under wet fabric, and all is right in the world.

\--

The peace lasts all the way until they get to the inn. He leaves Jaskier to get their room sorted out as he takes Roach to the stables. He gets her settled and threatens the stable boy before he heads back to the inn. It’s not very crowded, which unfortunately means that Jaskier probably won’t be putting on a show that night. Shame, because Geralt was really looking forward to a bath and a wank so he could shamefully think about Jaskier’s nipples while he did. The thought of them sent a shudder through him and he barges in without knocking.

Of course. Of course Jaskier has already had a bath drawn and is lounging in it. Shirtless. Naked, even. Fuck.

Jaskier lolls his head to the side and smiles obliviously up at Geralt. “I won’t be long. Once I’m out I can wash your hair and then fetch our dinner. Good?” he asks. 

Geralt nods tightly and turns around before he does something stupid, like ask to suck Jaskier’s nipples until they turn rosy and swell into the same pretty peaks from earlier. He takes slow, even breaths through his nose and tunes out the splash of water. Unbidden, the image of Jaskier running a soapy rag over his chest fills his head and he feels his cock flex in his pants. 

More splashing, and Jaskier says, “Geralt? Can you please grab the oil out of my bag? The one I use for my hair?” 

Maybe he can just hand it to him with his eyes closed. He doesn’t have to look. Without saying anything, he goes to Jaskier’s pack and rifles through it, until he finds the goddamn oil Jaskier needs. He stomps over to the tub and hands it to Jaskier without looking up. He can’t. If he does he’s going to do something stupid like crawl in the tub and lick Jaskier’s chest from navel to chin.  
“Geralt? Are you… what’s wrong?” Jaskier asks, voice a little small.

The sharp scent of sadness begins to tickle Geralt’s nose. He glances up and notices that Jaskier isn’t looking at him. His bottom lip is quivering a little. “Jaskier, what-”

“I thought… I thought it didn’t bother you. Now you won’t even look at me. You’d think that after everything you’ve seen, my… deformity wouldn’t be something that offended you so much.”

No. Oh no. Alarms are ringing in Geralt’s ears. He gapes like a fish as he struggles to find words to reassure Jaskier that aren’t _please let me play with your nipples until you come on my face._ “I...uh…”

Jaskier draws his knees up to his chest and rests his head on them. His hair goes unwashed and he’s frowning. “It’s okay, I know it’s weird. I just thought… you know, you’d understand. But it’s all right. Nothing to be done about it now, I suppose.” He sniffles and Geralt can smell the tears pooling in his eyes. “You can turn back around, I’ll just cover myself up and you won’t have to look at them.”

“No!” Geralt shouts, startling them both. Jaskier lifts his head and the tears that were glistening in his eyes start to fall. It’s like a punch to his gut. “No, Jaskier, that’s… not it. Um… look…” he flounders, rubbing his hand across his face. Words are hard enough to find as it is, but in the face of his…desires and Jaskier’s tears, they completely fail him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier presses.

Geralt takes a deep breath through his nose. In for a copper, he supposes. “I… don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not doing a very good job of it, avoiding looking at me as you are.”

“I know!” he growls, letting out a harsh breath. God, he’s fucking his up even worse. “I don’t want to look at you because… I…like them.” There, he said it. Every muscle in his body tenses, ready to bolt for the door at any moment. Surely Jaskier is going to find it strange and ask him to leave. Then Geralt can walk out of this inn room and never think about Jaskier or his pretty little nipples again, until he does and can’t stop.

Now Jaskier is gaping at him and it’s Geralt’s turn to fidget. “You...what?”

“You heard me. I like them. Your…chest. Your nipples. I like looking at them,” Geralt grits out, pointedly meeting Jaskier’s gaze. “And I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Jaskier doesn’t move for a moment, then his cheeks turn a very pretty shade of pink and he licks his lips. “Do you want to touch them?” he asks, voice pitched low and warm. Geralt knows that tone; he’s heard it many a night in a tavern or an inn after Jaskier has found a suitable bedmate to occupy his time. 

He just never expected to hear it be directed at him. 

Geralt feels that same tingling low in his pelvis at the very thought. Suddenly he’s stifling in his armor. Why hadn’t he taken it off when he came in? “Jaskier…you don’t…you don’t mean that,” he tries. There’s no way he’d be fortunate enough for that. 

Jaskier’s eyes go hooded and he shifts up to where his entire chest is on display above the bathwater. He runs his hands down his chest and stops to pinch at each of his nipples, letting out a soft moan as he does. He teases the lower ones, drawing Geralt’s attention to them. “Oh, but I do. If I had known taking my top off would get you to want me, I’d have done it ages ago.” His voice is a low purr and he bites his lip as he pinches the nipple even harder. Even from this distance, Geralt can see the way the pretty nubs are pebbling from the touch and the cooler air of the room. 

That’s what shreds the last vestiges of his tight control. He’s crossing the room in three long strides, shedding his armor as he goes. He’ll regret not being more careful in the morning, when his head isn’t filled with the need to touch and lick each and every single one of Jaskier’s lovely nipples. 

The bard squeaks when Geralt hauls him out of the tub and crushes their mouths together in a biting kiss. The fingers of his other hand skate down Jaskier’s neck and to his torso, flicking over the first nub he finds. Jaskier makes a sweet little noise into their kiss and Geralt eagerly swallows it down. His cock is already starting to throb in his breeches, just from the way the bard smells and feels against him. They break apart and Jaskier gasps as Geralt twists the nub between his fingertips. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about them all day…let me put my mouth on you,” Geralt growls, licking along Jaskier’s jawline. 

“Please,” is all Jaskier manages to say before Geralt herds him toward the bed. He doesn’t care that the bard is dripping wet all over their only set of sheets. His sole focus is getting to feel Jaskier’s nipples underneath his tongue. 

He crowds Jaskier against the bed and immediately scoots down to be eye-level with Jaskier’s lovely pectorals. They’re well-defined and covered in lush chest hair, with those pretty pink nipples peeking out. Geralt sets his mouth on it, rolling the nub with his tongue and pulling it into his mouth. Jaskier moans and arches up, brushing his hard cock against Geralt’s own chest. Here, he can smell Jaskier’s arousal ten-fold and it makes his mouth water. The fact that he’s turning on Jaskier by sucking and pinching his nipples is heady and making his head swim. 

He pulls off and moves to the next nipple, licking and sucking as he reaches down and pinches the other two. Jaskier makes more of those beautiful noises and he’s panting now, eyes closed and the flush spreading down his neck. 

He’s so fucking beautiful that Geralt can barely stand it.

He pulls his mouth off long enough to tell him so. “You look divine, fuck. And you weren’t wrong about your nipples,” Geralt teases, twisting the nub in his grip. Jaskier keens and his hips roll up again. Precome smears against Geralt’s skin. “I wonder if I can make you come like this,” Geralt muses as he takes Jaskier’s third nipple between his teeth. The bud is smaller than the others, but he can feel it pebble beneath his tongue. A bolt of heat fizzles through him and his cock flexes in his breeches. 

“No one has ever t-tried,” Jaskier says between pants of breath. His head is thrown back and there’s sweat beading on his brow. “But I’d rather come on your cock, if you don’t mind.” 

Geralt debates telling him no, wanting to keep playing with him like this, but then an idea strikes him. He gives Jaskier’s little nipple a kiss before he lets go and rolls to the side. He shoves his breeches down and then grabs his cock, stroking it as Jaskier looks down hungrily. “Come here,” he orders and watches as Jaskier gets to his knees and shuffles over. Spread like that, he looks positively sinful. “Do you have your oil? The one you always use?” 

Jaskier sniffs at him, playing coy, but says, “Yes. In my pack. Shall I go fetch it?” 

“Please.”

He watches the bard walk over to the pack and get what he needs. The strong splay of his back is almost as good as his chest, and he can’t wait to sink his cock into that beautiful ass. 

Jaskier is back almost as quick as he’d left, getting back to his knees and handing Geralt the oil. Instead Geralt keeps stroking his cock, slow and tight, and says, “No, you do it. I want to watch and play with you some more.” Jaskier moans and immediately douses his fingers in oil, reaching back behind himself to work them into his hole. The advantage of this is that his pretty chest is arched out and Geralt can keep touching his nipples. He pinches each of them in equal measure, rolling them between his fingertips one at a time. It keeps drawing the prettiest noises out of the bard, who is slowly rocking down against his fingers as he fucks himself.

Geralt’s cock jerks in his palm. “Add another,” he murmurs, giving one of Jaskier’s lower nipples a particularly brutal twist. It makes Jaskier squeal and arch even harder. Geralt licks his lips at the way Jaskier is putting himself on display. “I’m going to make you scream so pretty, Jask.”

After another minute or two, Geralt gets impatient and slides a finger into Jaskier alongside the bard’s own, testing to see how ready he is. Soaking wet with oil and hot to the touch, Geralt nearly bites through his lip at the feeling. “Ready?” he asks, thrusting up hard enough to make the bard squeak. 

“Yes, you brute, fuck. Next time we’re using your fingers,” Jaskier gripes. He slides his fingers out with a lewd pop and moves to straddle Geralt’s hips. His skin is slick with sweat and Geralt wants to eat him alive. “Help me out here, please?”

Geralt kindly points his cock up to where Jaskier can position himself, watching as the head disappears as the bard sinks down. He grits his teeth against the feeling, the hot clutch of Jaskier’s body rippling around him as he lowers himself with little bounces. “Play with them, your nipples. I’ve got you,” he says as he lays his hands on Jaskier’s hips, using his strength to steady him. 

Jaskier moans, but does as he asks. He treats Geralt to the delicious sight of all of his nipples tight and pebbled underneath the attention. It makes the bard arch up, even as he moves up and down on Geralt’s cock. 

“Fuck, your cock is so big and thick…I can’t…fuck,” Jaskier babbles, his own cock bobbing as he rolls his hips down, It’s hard and the head is flushed a lovely shade of red; he must be getting close. After a few minutes of fevered riding, Jaskier’s movements start to slow. 

Which is fine, Geralt did say he had him. He plants his feet on the bed and tightens his grip on Jaskier’s hips before he starts to thrust up into the bard. The change in pace and angle send Jaskier into a frenzy. He’s running his hands up and down his chest, tugging at his chest hair and pulling at his nipples until they’re red and sore-looking. “Geralt, oh, please, can I touch myself? Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants as he tries to hold on. 

“Not yet.” Geralt is enjoying this too much for it to be over. Jaskier is a vision, sweaty and flushed and his gorgeous chest bowed out. If Geralt were a lesser man, he would have come at the sight alone. It makes his cock flex inside the bard, earning him another grunt of pleasure. He shifts again, and the noise Jaskier lets out is beautiful.

“Don’t stop, right there, please, please,” Jaskier begs him. He pulls one of the lower nipples as his hand sneaks down his belly. 

Geralt has half a mind to stop him, but the bard is pleading so prettily. “Go ahead, touch yourself,” he purrs. He sticks his tongue out and Jaskier obeys, letting Geralt wet his fingers before he wraps them around his cock. At the first touch, Jaskier moans and starts stroking, pinching his nipples one at a time in time with the movements of his hand. 

“Oh, oh, oh, Geralt, I’m going to come, please, keep fucking me, right there!”

Jaskier was always noisy in bed, but this is the first time Geralt was getting to hear it first hand. The steady stream of filth and noises tumbling from his red-bitten lips was obscene, and Geralt wanted more. 

Normally, he’s not one for talk during sex, but Jaskier is so riled up, Geralt can’t not tell him. “Wanted to do this as soon as I saw you in the stream. Fuck you and lick all your pretty nipples until you writhed and squealed. Next time we’re in a big enough village, or in Novigrad, I’m going to find a blacksmith to make you some pretty clamps and a chain-”

Jaskier screams as he comes, covering both of them with his release. Geralt files that for later, because he can only imagine how pretty Jaskier would look, nipples clamped and a chain that he could pull and tug at them…

Before Jaskier is even finished coming, Geralt hefts them over so that the bard is on his back and Geralt keeps thrusting, slamming his cock into that tight little hole over and over again. He can feel his release churning in his gut, his cock flexing inside of Jaskier as he hurtles towards the edge. He uses his bard’s body to edge himself, get himself right to the line before he yanks his cock out. Jaskier moans, but Geralt is too busy tugging at his cock to ask if that was too much. Instead, he throws his head back and strokes himself, twisting at the head to push himself over. The world goes white as his orgasm explodes through him, his hip jerking as he spills all over Jaskier’s chest. 

He fucks his fist to a stop and lets out a breath when he’s finished. Opening his eyes, he sees Jaskier below him, absolutely filthy with the mix of their come all over him. He smells divine; like sex and them and it’s enough to make Geralt’s cock twitch again. He leans down and starts to lap up the mess, sucking it off each nipple one by one and delighting at the way it makes Jaskier squirm underneath him.

“Satisfied?” Jaskier slurs. He looks sleepy and sated. It’s a good look on him.

“Hmm,” Geralt replies. He shifts up and kisses Jaskier, letting him taste the two of them on his tongue. He can’t resist letting his fingers drift down to pinch at one of Jaskier’s upper nipples, just to feel him shudder.

“Leave them alone, they’re tender. You can play with them another time.” He swats at Geralt’s hand half-heartedly, but he smells like fresh linen and meadowsweet. He smells _content._ “Now, I would say we finish our bath but I think I’d fall asleep,” he murmurs around a yawn. 

Geralt pets his hair and tweaks a nipple one last time. “Sleep, bard. You’ve earned it.” 

Jaskier nods and before long, he’s snoring on the bed. Geralt rolls his eyes, but he can’t deny the rush of fondness at the ridiculousness of it. He gets to his feet and grabs a rag to clean them both off. They can bathe tomorrow, once they reach their destination.

Maybe Jaskier will even let him play with his nipples again. 

-END-

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Loved? Was strangely into it? Let me know down in the comments!


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